


Ad Augusta Per Angusta

by derryderrydown



Category: Temeraire - Novik
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 17:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derryderrydown/pseuds/derryderrydown





	Ad Augusta Per Angusta

It was near a fortnight after Laurence left that Jane Roland found herself with several hours unfilled by her duties. She had grown accustomed to spending her empty hours with Laurence and was somewhat startled to find herself ranging the covert, restless and unoccupied, until she found herself back in her own room.

And it was purely on a whim that she dipped her pen in ink and started to write.

> Laurence,
> 
> You would find Dover a pathetic sight were you here. Fully a quarter of the dragons have caught this dratted cold and, being dragons, most are milking it for all they are worth.
> 
> I declare, there is no more humorous sight than a great Parnassian sneezing hard enough to blow his dinner over! It's certainly a more novel form of hunting than he has displayed to date, albeit one I'm happy Excidium chooses not to emulate.
> 
> Excidium is rather fastidious about the whole thing and declines to associate with beasts who, he says, may sneeze all over him at any moment. I cannot say I especially regret this. The less chance of his catching this cold the be

She was interrupted by Captain Vane with the news that his Chequered Nettle was declaring herself too ill to join that afternoon's patrol, and Jane pushed her letter away to concentrate on reorganising her formation until Inimicus should decide she had recovered sufficiently from her sniffles to work.

Dratted beast, Jane thought. She was certainly capable of flying; she just preferred not to and Vane always did allow her too much leeway. She was getting positively spoiled.

Ah, well. With the Battle of Dover still so recent, it was a safe bet that Inimicus wouldn't be needed. Let Vane coddle her for now and Jane would enforce discipline once the dragon had recovered her constitution.

* * *

A week and a day later and she finally had time to return to her letter.

> The cold was, perhaps, a little more severe than was initially thought. However, it seems to be passing now and my formation is back up to its full complement. One of the Chequered Nettles is still too easily tired but I have her flying extra patrols to improve her wind and have no doubt she'll be back in condition shortly.

She considered, for a moment, the possibility of her letter being intercepted and added:

> Even with her a little below her best, we are more than capable of handling whatever Bonaparte cares to throw in our direction.

Satisfied with the addition, she lit a cigar and continued:

> I believe the cold is the most exciting thing to have happened here lately, which is a sad state of affairs for one of the largest coverts in the nation.
> 
> There are rumours that Denmark is attempting to revive the Armed Neutrality of the North. Eminently foolish, because they have no more ability to protect their ships than they did in 1801. St Germain

This time the interruption was the far more pleasant call to dinner.

Tonight, her table was crowded and it was a relief to watch captains and lieutenants laughing as they dug into Strasburg pie and lacquered duck and pilaff, shaking off the concern of the past few weeks.

"So, Vane," Jane said, motioning for a servant to refill her wineglass. "Do you have Inimicus tucked up for the night with an eiderdown and a goosefeather mattress?"

Vane glared at her but his mouth was twitching with laughter. "Oh, come. If Excidium had been moaning and groaning at you like Inimicus did at me, you'd have done exactly the same!"

"But Excidium," Nantwich drawled, "_wouldn't_ moan and groan."

"But Inimicus," Vane said, "does not have Excidium's years of experience. The girl's never been ill before. How was she to know she wasn't dying?"

Because you should have told her, Jane thought. But this wasn't the time or place to bring it up so she raised her glass. "A glass of wine with you, Vane." After she drained her glass, she was able to catch Nantwich's eye and hold it long enough to subdue him.

Sometimes, she thought, her runners were easier to control than her captains.

* * *

  


> My eldest runner, Garden, is made up to ensign and is et up with pride. He was the scruffiest beast imaginable as a cadet but now he positively gleams at all times. I regret to say his ex-comrades take it upon themselves to fracture his pride. Still, it does him no real harm and he must learn to command them.
> 
> More shuffling and my second lieutenant is sent to join Magnificat as first. An excellent promotion for him, of course, but it leaves me lacking.

Letter-writing became easier with practice, Jane decided. She would send this one with the Cape Town courier. Unless the winds had been especially favourable, the courier was likely to overhaul Temeraire and Laurence would have a letter waiting for him when he landed. Unfortunate that she had missed Volatilus' run but there was another Greyling due to depart in a few days.

She wondered how Temeraire was adapting to life on a dragon transport. Young Invictus had been dreadfully afflicted with the _mal de mer_ on his first sea voyage. Cleaning up after the Winchester had been unpleasant enough; for a beast of Temeraire's size it would be exponentially worse. Although, of course, Temeraire had been hatched at sea so was almost certainly immured to the sensation.

She leaned back in her chair, stretched out her legs and drew deep on her cigar. It really was ridiculous to be missing Laurence as much as she was. She was no lovesick miss; she simply enjoyed his company. Aviators generally had few subjects of conversation; Laurence was something outside the ordinary.

And there was, of course, the amusement of watching him attempt to hide his discomfort with her position. She grinned, and felt the familiar tug of her scar. That, it was true, provided endless entertainment.

The problem, she decided, was a lack of work. Routine patrols weren't enough to occupy her.

As if summoned by her thoughts, there was a knock on her door and a cadet entered. "Captain Vane says that Inimicus is sick again and the surgeon says she's bad and would you meet him at her clearing?" he said, rushed out on one breath

"Take a breath, boy," Jane said, amused. "Now, report."

The boy took a breath. "Inimicus is coughing bad again. The surgeon says she has..." He looked upwards as he attempted to remember the words. "A productive cough, febrile perspiration and extreme lethargy. Him and Vane want to see you at Inimicus' clearing." He cleared his throat and belatedly added, "Please."

Well, God and physicians alone knew what the surgeon meant by all that. Jane stood up and pulled on her tunic. "Very well. Run and tell Vane that I'm on my way."

The boy shot out of her room with a speed that had her smiling.

* * *

Three days later, she carried a lamp into her night-dark room and near fell into her chair with exhaustion.

Moving stiffly, she pulled pen and paper towards her.

> Well, my dear, the cold was merely absent, not gone.
> 
> Inimicus has fallen sick once more and the surgeon begins to fear this is no mere cold. He describes her symptoms with a long stream of words but they do not come close to what we see.
> 
> She cannot stop coughing. She burns to the touch.
> 
> And the terrifying thing is that she is not alone. Eversor has refused food for two days and the lack is already showing on him. Magnificat coughs hard enough to shake the ground around him.
> 
> I am scared, Laurence. And I am not woman who scares easily.

She read back over what she had written.

There was, of course, no question of sending it. Even a slight possibility of Bonaparte learning of the dragons' illness was too much to risk.

She tried again.

> Life continues gay and carefree. Inimicus has

No.

> Mortiferus' formation is being drilled hard in preparation for

No.

Damn it! She stabbed her pen into the paper and, with a brutal satisfaction, felt the nib bend to breaking. She balled up the paper and tossed it into the fire.

If she couldn't write the truth and she couldn't write lies, she simply couldn't write.

So be it. She had more important considerations.


End file.
